


Dinner may be a little later than anticipated

by staircasetothesea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, M/M, Multi, but we'll keep that to ourselves until Dean works it out, is that even a tag??, it should be in this fandom, of course we all know that's not the only thing that C size batteries are used for, pie??, pirate talk, pre-Wincestiel, that's not a thing, working in a qotsa reference here, you go Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staircasetothesea/pseuds/staircasetothesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Cas attempting to make a meal for Dean's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner may be a little later than anticipated

Dean sauntered up Aisle 9 of the supermarket.

_4 pack of C size batteries – long life._

He surveyed the battery display before grabbing the first pack that vaguely matched the description, turning it over in his hand, lost in thought. Dean was intimately familiar with every gadget that requires batteries in the bunker – the only one he can recall that used C batteries was the torch in the hall - which, if he remembered correctly, had two fresh sets of batteries waiting for it in the kitchen drawer. He idly pondered the list item, before almost imperceptibly shrugging and chucking the packet in the basket. I mean, if they hadn’t needed them, Sam and Cas wouldn’t have added them to the list, right? Right. He sighed, checking the list again in case he’d forgotten anything before heading to the checkouts.

Down the very bottom was scrawled, almost unreadable - _#00 Philips head screwdriver._

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me??” he muttered under his breath. Looked like a trip to the hardware store was in his future. “ _Way to spend a birthday, boys”_ he sighed as he headed to the checkouts, credit card in hand.

The bored young checkout girl brightened visibly on his arrival, scanning his items with renewed vigour. Despite everything, Dean still revelled in the effect he could have on girls like her, something he needed especially today, of all days. “Was that all today, Mr Homme?” He flashed her his brightest smile as she completed the transaction, flicking her silky blonde hair over her shoulder. He chuckled at the thought. Jesus, if he’d been about six years younger and a different man, today wouldn’t have been that bad after all..

\----

“Jesus Cas, hurry the fuck up. He left almost three quarters of an hour ago – you know Dean doesn’t fuck around at the supermarket..” Sam was getting to the end of his tether. He was no master chef by any means – he’d never had a chance to learn, what with growing up in dusty hotel rooms, but this was verging on the freaking ridiculous. Cas was bent close to double facing the bunker’s kitchen counter, his squinting gaze almost level to the counter as he measured out the milk for the pie into a Pyrex jug for the umpteenth time. The former angel’s fetish for precision would be the death of him, he was sure of that now – Sam was swiftly starting to regret agreeing to make his brother a birthday dinner, if this was what he had to work with. They’d engineered that shopping list to perfection, but still..

Cas had previously proved himself to be quite the genius in the kitchen – his earlier exploits had been most successful and utterly delicious. Sam proudly counted himself partly responsible – after all, it had been him who’d scoured the internet for recipes, loaded them onto the iPad and set Cas up with the correct ingredients. Hence his agreement to this cockamamie idea of making Dean a birthday meal. If he’d only _known_ what Cas was like in the kitchen, he may’ve reconsidered.

Sam visibly slumped as Cas dumped part of the milk back into the carton for a third time. He idly recalled the movies he’d made Cas watch the previous week – maybe that’d connect? After all, Cas had seemed to empathise quite strongly with Orlando Bloom’s character. He’d also commented on Orlando’s ‘aesthetic appeal’, much to the hunter’s amusement – and Cas’ subsequent embarrassment. It was worth a shot, at least.

“Y’know, Cas - recipes – they’re more like ‘guidelines’, rather than actual rules..”

Cas chuckled lowly as he carefully supplemented the measuring jug with milk. He double checked the level before nodding to himself, pleased with his vessel’s hard fought but eventual accuracy.

“Sam, there’s a reason pirates were not renowned for their culinary prowess” he replied. He’d been putting up with Sam’s attitude for over an hour now - enough was enough. He smiled to himself, raising a hidden palm full of flour to his face, puffing his breath across his hand into Sam’s face and thoroughly enjoying the panic in the hunter’s formerly smug expression as he gasped for breath, only serving to inhale more flour as he struggled for air.

Sam coughed and spluttered as he grabbed at Cas’ shaking shoulders. “Oh, dude” he managed to choke out “it is SO on..” Cas guffawed - Sam’s attempt to grasp Cas’ shoulders was weak, but enough to topple him to the kitchen floor. They hit the deck, wrestling and laughing, Sam still coughing as he attempted to place Cas in a headlock, the former angel writhing and squirming gleefully against the hold in the thin film of flour on the kitchen floor.

They didn’t even hear the bunker door open – Dean slumping loosely against the kitchen door jamb as he watched his two favourite idiots wrestling mindlessly, bellowing “PARLEY!!” at each other at regular intervals, neither of them paying much mind to the outside world. He waited, watched for a moment, entranced by the spectacle.

Eventually, though, it got too much. He cleared his throat loudly, announcing his return.

Immediately they both stopped, caught in each other’s arms, faux fighting but still somehow cuddling, and totally intent on his newly arrived presence.

Dean paused, swallowed nervously, all eyes on him.

“Umm, shiver me timbers?”


End file.
